


Would you remember if I told you?

by o0_Kiyomitsu_0o



Series: Times we met but didn't know [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes as Asset, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Minor Violence/Torture (mentioned), Pepper Potts (mentioned) - Freeform, Protective Tony Stark, Someone doesn't understand the concept of a compliment, The Asset is confused, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony tries his best, Weird Fluff, confusion/comfort/hurt in this order, references to prior works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 13:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0_Kiyomitsu_0o/pseuds/o0_Kiyomitsu_0o
Summary: Breaking into Stark-Tower to retrieve a file would have been easier without one of the Avengers working there.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Series: Times we met but didn't know [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184354
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Would you remember if I told you?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, thanks for your interest in reading my story (^w^)
> 
> Before you continue, please note that I'm neither an native English- nor an native Russian-speaker aaaand I didn't have a Beta-reader to sort through my mistakes, so please excuse my grammar and my spelling (>w<")
> 
> Ok, I think this is the fluffiest thing I've written so far, but I still kept the 'Mature'-Rating since there are some minor references to violence and torture, but they are playing really, really minor parts this time.  
> Should you still feel uncomfortable about the tagging please let me know, so I can improve them (^w^)
> 
> I still hope you enjoy your time here (^w^)7
> 
> This time no translations at the end, because there wasn't anything to translate (P_P).... 
> 
> Even if it doesn't look like it, I really love both character, I swear! At some point I want to see them happy, this... this is actually them getting closer... somehow...
> 
> If you notice anything, please let me know so I can correct it right away (n.n)

The autumn wind was cold, the sun hidden behind thick grey clouds. The asset was lying on the rooftop across from Stark-Tower, checking out the 17th floor of the tall glass building. He was waiting for one of the Hydra-double agents inside to give him the sign for the mission to start. He kept his eyes trained on the only windows on the floor blacked out by a roller blind. 

His handler had been clear on the instructions. As soon as the binds went up, the asset was to make his way up to the 30th floor, where Shield held an extra storage room for confiscated goods and old files, at least according to the agent that had infiltrated Shield years ago. He was to retrieve the file Z40/MGR/7629 concerning some of Hydras latest activities without being noticed, which wasn’t an easy task considering, that Stark-Tower had the world’s most advanced security system as well as one of the Avengers working in the top floors. 

Intel was, that Iron Man would be activated as soon as a security breach was detected, which was the reason his handler had decided to send the asset in. Iron Man was known for keeping civilian casualties to the minimum if possible. Considering they would encounter each other inside a building full of people, the asset reduced the likeliness of one of the gauntlet’s reactor beams to be used close to zero. In hand to hand combat a human wouldn’t stand a chance, but with the enhanced strength and speed as well as the metal arm the asset could still manage an escape, calculations of movability while suffering critical damage included.

The air on the roof was freezing cold, it wouldn’t take long for winter to come, it still was far from impeding the asset to fulfill his mission. He was clenching and unclenching his flesh hand, trying to keep it flexible. His metal arm had already reached adjusted to the outside temperature, passing it on to the assets body, causing a shiver that let the arm recalibrate involuntarily. 

The asset knew the feeling all to well. Every time he was woken up from the cryo-chamber the cold would stick to the metal far longer than to the rest of his body, making it difficult to get back into working condition within the required time. The icy dead weight of his deactivated arm, pressed against his shivering torso, more often than not reason for impatiently barked commands, that led to buckets of scalding hot water getting poured over the metal to speed up the heating-process. It never took long for the burns on his skin to heal, most of them gone even before his heart-rate had normalized itself. It was considered as inevitable and not imperilling for the missions.

The asset winced at the thought of the rough material of his tactical gear, he usually had to put on right afterwards. The lightest touch would set the sore skin at flames, the thick fabric making the first attendance nearly unbearable. He clenched his hands for the sixth time in ten minutes, his body temperature steadily dropping. He squeezed the coat he wearing as much as possible. The woollen fabric foreign. It wasn’t the assets place to argue with his handler’s decision to skip the thick leather gear, as much as it was bothering him to be unarmed, only dressed in a black button down and black slacks, hidden beneath the charcoal coat. 

The security scans were tight, any kind of weaponry would be detected immediately. It had been difficult enough for Hydras engineers to create a cover for the assets arm to not be detected. Any other risk was to be obviated, meaning no extra metal. The handler, a young woman with a fox-like face and red, sleek hair had also insisted on giving the asset a cover in case he was spotted before getting to the storage room. They needed the file. A hasty termination of the mission would be unacceptable, so the back-up plan was settled. 

The asset had been given a fake ID-badge, that would identify him as a Shield-intern and grant him access to the main floors. They had combed the assets hair into a bun, taken a picture for the badge and put him into the thin, flimsy clothing he was wearing. They were the polar opposite compared to the usual attire, made of bullet proved material he wore during missions. 

While on stake-out the asset was trained to list his weapons and their location, while mentally assemble and reassemble them, to stay focused and to be ready to strike. Having no weapons whatsoever on him caused an unfamiliar feeling of uneasiness. Not that they were needed for any explicit reason. The metal hands grip could tighten enough to crush a skull after all, yet it felt strange to reach for the knife usually hidden in his right combat boot, only to find neither of them.

He shook his head, he had to keep his focus on the window. Like a reflex the asset wanted to brush away stray strands of hair usually falling into his line of sight, but all of them were still neatly tucked in place. It was the one thing the asset could get used to rather quickly. Hair tied into a pony tail. Easier to aim and or fight with, should the need arise.

Another hour passed before the blinds were finally lifted. The asset put on the blue-white clinic-mask, as well as the wine-red scarf to complete the picture of someone having a light cold, before leaving his waiting position. 

It didn’t take long for the asset to wave his way through the crowd of people flitting in and out of the building, while dodging the line of blinking security cameras, watching the bustle on the street, before falling into step with a group of suits talking to each other or shouting into their cell-phones. 

They didn’t really notice the assets presence or rather they didn’t care about him as he slipped past them when they arrived at the entrance control. His fake ID was working without a problem. The young guard still eyed the asset critically and was about to ask him to remove the mask, when one of the suited men’s badges was starting to act up, causing an alarm to go off. The attention immediately diverted from the asset to the man gesturing wildly through the air. 

The asset switched off the little magnet, that tampered the others card, before he swiftly turned around while the commotion was still high. He took the stairs to avoid any unnecessary encounters in closed spaces, that didn’t offer any escape route. 

Arriving at the upper floor the asset paused. Even with enhanced endurance his body still demanded extra breaths to take in, to balance the oxygen levels in his lungs after climbing thirty floors. 

The asset sucked in one last breath before stilling completely, listening for any sounds coming from the main floor that would lead him right towards the storage department. Silence. He pulled off the leather glove, that had covered his metal hand as well the latex replica of a captured Shield-agents hand. Hydra’s tech-department had put it over the ungiving material, so the fingerprints could grant him access to the folder section without any suspicions. 

The hall was empty, except for the three security cameras watching the floor, but not the section, where the target was located. The asset didn’t dawdle, the more natural it looked the less suspicion would arise. He placed the fake hand over the scanner, that lit up blue. A beeping sound informed the asset about the granted access, just as the door opened with a soft swishing sound. 

It didn’t take long to find the file. The folders were all neatly arranged and sorted by location, threat and alphabet. The asset pushed the H-binder back into place before getting up again, the needed file firmly in hand. He didn’t spare the weapons, alien objects or discarded training-ground designs filling the rest of the room any glances, in favour of planning the quickest route out of the building, he would meet up with a team at a pick up point some blocks away from the building. 

The file was safely clutched in the fake flesh hand. The asset turned around the next corner, still trying to gauge the risk of getting spotted if he were to use the back entrance, when he felt someone short, but quite sturdy ran into his chest. 

The asset was about to reach for the knife usually attached to the belt on his back in reflex, before he realized it wasn’t there. The file was retrieved, he could blow his cover, should the need arise. The asset still mentally berated himself for his carelessness not checking the hall. He was about to get ready to engage in combat, but the unexpected collision forced a huff out of his lungs, when he tried to suck in a breath. 

‘Ah, sorry, I didn’t see you...’ the perplexed man huffed out, before slightly laboured breathing, the short brunet had been running the asset noted, turned into a soft chuckle followed by a mumbled ‘well, not like you are something to be overlooked’.

The asset wasn’t sure, if he had been supposed to hear the last part, because the other was already looking the asset up and down and back into the directions, where he had come from. Was he being followed? 

The assets took the chance of the others moment of distraction, so he could wager just how much of a risk his carelessness leading to an unnecessary encounter was to the mission’s success. He let his eyes roam over navy blue slacks, that went with a sharp-cut suit jacket. The white shirt and black tie refined with golden cud links and tie clip perfectly matching the golden watch on the man’s wrist. The pristine appearance in combination with the peculiar goatee framing an appreciative smirk left no doubt about the man’s identity. Anthony ‘Tony’ Edward Stark, also known as Iron Man. 

The asset tensed, re-calculating his chances in a direct fight. Iron Man wasn’t wearing a suit. The fact could be a major advantage, if only for seconds, since the asset didn’t have anything, he could use against the man except his arm and general strength. Both could deal out good damage against the human in front of him, as long as he was unprotected. As soon as the suit was in fighting position the asset would have trouble to stand his ground. 

Chocolate brown eyes were following the assets movements, or rather taking in the frozen form, since the asset hadn’t moved from his half-defensive stand. The asset readied himself to deliver the first blow or to block the other, it was difficult to gauge the man’s abilities, but whatever the Avenger saw, made the shorter man relax his posture. He opened his stance, hands lifted in a universally display of a non-threatening gesture, as if to tell the asset, that he wasn’t going to attack, which the asset recognized warily. 

His handler had given him all available information’s about Iron Mans fighting style and abilities in and out of his suit. The asset knew he had to stay alert around the Tech-Genius-Avenger, who not just owned the tower they were currently located in, but also had provided the security system himself. The only reason Hydra had been able to by-pass it, was that one of their own agents had taken over the security monitoring years ago, systematically creating small bugs since it had gotten installed for the first time.

Iron Mans sharp, predatory smirk disappeared into a dejected sigh, before it reformed itself into something much softer. The bright eyes gaining a sympathetic look. The Avenger rubbed the back of his neck in an almost shy gesture, as he looked back up at the asset. ‘Hey, no need to look so stressed out. I’m not going to eat you, or well… fire you, if that’s your concern.’ The short brunet’s tone placatory, as if talking to loud would scare the asset away.

The asset was confused. Why wasn’t Iron Man prepare to fight? Was the cover still working? He eyed the sharply dressed man warily. No sign of impending combat mode. He looked back into slightly squinted brown eyes. The others gaze lingered on the assets face for a moment too long to fortify the assets fleeting thought of reassurance in his cover.

‘Have we met before? I feel like I’ve met you. Did we meet somewhere? At an event maybe? A coffee-break down at R&D?’ Iron Man wondered out loudly. Still not sure, whether the question had been spoken out loudly with the intention of getting a response or not, the asset shook his head once. The short brunet was still looking at him and the asset was mentally back at preparing for a quick strike towards the man’s carotid, to get some seconds of a head start for his flight down the stairs, that would follow immediately. 

‘You sure? You seem somehow familiar…’ the suit-clad man paused for another moment, a deep frown covering his forehead. He looked back up at the asset taking in his features a second time, but didn’t seem to find anything to back up his suspicion, because what followed was a light-hearted shrug. ‘On the other hand, my memories of faces aren’t the best and I can’t even remember, what I had for breakfast this morning so…’ a dismissive wave through the air followed the half-hearted attempted on an explanation.

It seemed to be enough for the Avenger, and the asset should have accepted it as an unexpected gain, nodding his goodbye and slip out the stairwell’s door, but something about the apologetically laughing voice and whisky brown eyes made the asset halt. Did he meet the man before? Maybe on one of his prior missions. He hadn’t gotten into any encounters with this newly formed Avenger-Team, the intel on them still spotty. He tried to remember the briefings about them he had to attend, before he was cleared for the ongoing mission, but his memory began to get hazy the more he tried to focus on the short brunet’s face. 

Pictures of unknown places and faces flitted in and out of his mind so fast, it made the asset dizzy, forcing him to take a step back not to lose his balance. The blur impeding his vision worsened with every passing moment. Voices suddenly adding up to the onslaught of unknown images. Some were begging, screaming, pleading as the asset was looking at men and women, gun in hand. Others were passing him on street corners, he had been standing at, as he watched a target get into place. A scrawny blond boy was fighting in a back ally shouting at him. Hurt doe eyes belonging to a young man standing in an empty hallway, were looking up at the asset. An injured man was pulling him closer, whispering something the asset couldn’t hear.

The assets mind was spinning. Who were these people? What were they saying? Why couldn’t he remember any of them? White noises filling his ears were making it difficult to regain his focus. A warm hand appeared on the assets shoulder, another on his hip, in what seemed to be an attempt of catching him. Pressing his eyes shut tightly made it easier for the asset to ignore the colourful fog, that was slowly starting to clear. He slowly opened his eyes again until he was looking into impossible wide amber eyes clouded with worry. 

‘Hey?! Hey there big guy. Can you hear me?! Are you ok? You don’t look ok. You need to sit down or should I get a doctor? Probably a doctor...’ the shorter man continued to babble, the hand on the assets shoulder tightening, as if he might fall without the contact. It was unreasonable, even if the asset was malfunctioning, he was still in a somewhat usable state. 

Someone looking at the asset in so much concern was odd, but those shimmering brown eyes made a familiar warmth rise his chest. A defect in his body was bothersome, but still no risk to the mission. As long as he could return, they would get him fixed. Despite that, the Avenger seemed to be fixated on the idea, that the asset was needing help. 

Considering his options, in which unnecessary attention and confrontation, that could compromise the mission, were avoidable, was the one where the asset played along not the worst. So, he took a hold on the brunet’s hand, that had switched from steadying the assets shoulder to pressing against his forehead. The asset let himself fall against the wall to his right, before sliding down, taking the shorter man with him.

The movement was slow, calculated, the hold on the other man’s wrist as light as possible to further the impression of a sick intern the Avenger was so set on keeping. ‘oh... yeah, ok... yeah, sitting down that’s... good yeah, that might work, I’ll just... wait a second...’ the shorter man was shuffling forward on his knees, slipping out of the perfectly fitted suit jacket, only to bunch the fabric into a makeshift pillow he carefully pushed behind the assets head. 

The whole scene causing the dizziness to return. A bustling room in the distance. A sharply dressed man taking off his jacket. The asset let his head fall back, the make-shift pillow an unexpected relieve on the already pounding head. In the corner of the assets restricted field of vision he saw the mob of brown hair settle down beside him, leaning against the wall as well. 

The brunet crossed his legs with surprising flexibility, relaxing further against the cold stone. ‘You are an intern here, aren’t you?’ the brunet tapped at his breast-pocket as equivalent to the assets badge. ‘Bet you work at field-testing; you don’t really look like a pencil pusher.’ The asset didn’t know, if the other had really expected an answer, because the Avenger picked up the momentarily paused stream of words again. The asset didn’t mind. Being able to sit down and focusing on the warm voice next to him was speeding up the regain of vision and focus immensely. The asset was only then noticing just how much his head was actually aching, so keeping his mouth shut as well as his eyes closed was an unexpected bliss and since the other seemed to genially worry about the asset, he allowed himself a short moment of inattentiveness. 

The brunet obviously didn’t mind the monologue, because he jumped from topic to topic, currently complaining about some Pepper-girl chasing him out of his lab into a meeting, he had to leave, because the other attendees had been so mind-numbing dumb, sans mentioned Pepper-girl, that he had to get out of the room, if he didn’t want to combust spontaneously. The asset didn’t know, that something like literal fire was part of Iron Mans fighting strategy as well. 

‘I meant what I said you know? You won’t get fired for staying home, if you don’t feel well. Against popular-tabloid and talk-show opinions I’m not that heartless… but don’t tell the press, I have a reputation to uphold, makes it easier to fight of annoying offers.’ The eloquent brunet winked at the asset, who tilted his head to the side to get a better view of the other. He wondered how the public opinion came to the conclusion, that the gently back and forth swaying man, who had shown nothing but compassion for the asset, whom he could have ignored with no one batting an eye, might be a heartless person. 

The brunet had leaned back against the wall again, mimicking the assets tilted head to look at him directly. ‘It’s weird. I really think I’ve met you before, but I can’t put my finger on it. You sure you’ve bever been to one of the Christmas parties maybe?’ The asset rolled his head from side to side, denying the short man’s question, he had been trying to answer himself. 

The Avenger crossed his arms in thought, eyes closed as if it would help him to find the missing piece. With an annoyed groan he let himself fall forward. ‘Ok, this isn’t working. It’s official now, my brain has betrayed me. I’m starting to get old.’ The asset took the figure sitting next to him in. Was he suffering the same malfunctions as himself? It couldn’t be the age, Iron Man should be in his mid to late thirties. As far as Hydra’s file had reached into Iron Mans history, he shouldn’t be prone to any form of dementia either. Were there other issues, they had overlooked? Was there something the Avenger had in common with the asset? The prospect urged the asset to let his eyes roam over the other man’s frame once more in hope to find any clue. Stylishly coiffed brown hair. Sharply trimmed goatee, that should have looked ridiculous, but instead gave the man an eccentric aura. A fit body hidden by perfectly tailored clothes. Full lips, tanned skin, kind eyes suddenly looking at the asset again, the question still very visible. All in all, the man looked healthy. 

The asset wanted to tell the other about his similar feeling. Ask him if he could explain the missing memories, but he stopped himself. Speaking without direct permission from his handler was forbidden. A question was equalling high-treason. Maybe there was a reason for the asset not to remember. Maybe the man was a risk, but then, why was he still alive? Wouldn’t it have been the assets duty to eliminate him? Why was the thought of killing the other so distressing? 

The asset shook his head again, answering the others question as well as trying to shoo away the ones popping up in his mind without relent, both working with mediocre success. Trying to shift his focus towards the next best thing, the asset watched the brunet jut out his chin in a little pout? The following nose scrunching causing the assets heart to skip a beat. Another warm shiver ran down his spine. 

He had to resist the urge to recalibrate the metal arm hidden beneath the flimsy clothing, if only to make sure everything was still working, because by now his body reaction were starting to turn into more than just potential risks for his mission, especially when the gentle timbre voice spoke up again.

‘And I could have sworn... Your eyes, I really thought I’ve seen them before. They look like storm-clouds in a winter sky…, they are beautiful.’ The shorter man started to blush as he whispered the last part, suddenly developing an immense interest in playing with one of his cuff links. He only peaked up through long black lashes, when the silence stretched out, the uncertain smile wavering with every passing second. 

The asset was stunned. He knew his physique was created with certain aspects in mind, including enhanced strength, speed, vision, all made to optimize the assets abilities during combat, guaranteeing his efficacy. His eye colour had never mattered before and yet, something about the brunet mentioning it had the assets heartrate accelerate and made breathing more difficult. Were his eyes another back-up trigger, like the red book his handlers used during training to recalibrate him?

This was different though. Where usually stiffness of muscles and a blank mind followed the last syllable leaving his handlers mouth, the asset found himself heat up, his mind more of a haze than before. In a short moment of reason, the asset reminded himself, that the state of his body, should it get any worse, was likely to compromise the mission, which would result in punishment for failure. 

The thought was enough to drive the asset up again. He ignored the dizziness returning as well as the worried look the short brunet was giving him, while he tried to scramble to his feet as well. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to... I mean, I meant what I said, but I didn’t mean to offend you! Please, don’t go yet, I swear! I’m not saying anymore weird things, just please, you still don’t look to well...’ there was a desperate note in the Avengers tone, that made the assets ache in a way he hadn’t experienced before. 

He swallowed hard as he took in the half sitting, half kneeling man, who looked about ready to cry. The asset couldn’t stay any longer, even if something in his chest was shattering to pieces at the thought of leaving the desperate pleading man. The asset clutched the file tighter, to remind himself of the reason for being in the tower in the first place. 

Hydra wanted the file, no matter what and he had to deliver them in time. There wasn’t a choice, unless he wanted to lead the rest of Hydra directly towards the brunet. Even Iron Man could only do so much against a whole organisation controlling most part of Shield. 

The asset took one last, long look at the other before tightening the jacket around himself as if the extra layer of fabric would keep the longing he felt at bay. A short beeping sound ripped the asset out of his struggle, the sound informing him about the pickup commando reaching the meeting point, leaving so time to waste.

He turned on his heels in a jerky twist, crossing the few steps around the corner to where the stairwell was located. The brunets voice disappeared the moment the door closed behind the asset, who left the building through the planned escape route. For a moment the asset paused before crossing the open ground of the tower, keeping his attention on the air as well in case Iron Man had noticed the file the asset had slipped into the inside of his coat.

It was irritating the asset, how the thought of the Avenger following him caused another flutter rush through his veins. He couldn’t pay it any mind, his headache was getting worse again and the van was already waiting at the meeting point. The agents slammed the door shut behind the asset, who collapsed into the corner of the vans back. He tried to curl into himself, trying to will away the hurt face of the brunet, that seemed to de-age, again and again, until only a young boy with tear-streaked cheeks remained. 

The file was delivered to his handler, who spoke to one of the agents, that had picked up the asset. She scanned the assets shaking form with a scrutinizing gaze, before giving a short nod into the agent’s direction. She turned around and left the broken asset with the failed memories alone at the hall, not waiting for the two men to step in. The asset didn’t notice them either, too caught up in pictures and memories that felt alien but somehow like he should know them. 

They dozed the stilled asset, the tranquilizer only amplifying the already-there dizziness until it all became to much and the asset felt his knees buckle. The last thing he heard before his limps were starting to feel stiff and cold was his handlers sharp voice cutting through the mushy fog ‘useless, restart him.’

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and for your support (^w^)
> 
> See you next time around \\(n_n)/


End file.
